


Belonging - The Beginning

by Luke2leia



Series: Vampires kill the gender binary [1]
Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Trans Character, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luke2leia/pseuds/Luke2leia
Summary: Marko meets David...and both have their secrets
Series: Vampires kill the gender binary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955032
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. Luck of the Draw

Belonging – the beginning

………………………

Warnings: multipairing, violence, trans character

……………..

Marko slipped easily down the trellis that hung, ivy laden, by the side of the balcony. With soft curls tucked neatly under a cloth cap the same dull, threadbare brown as his coat and pants, he was all but invisible in the near moonless night.

With ease born of long practice, he flitted through the shadows covering the house grounds, passing like a ghost out the back gate. A few quick turns and a brief walk found him in much less savory surroundings, the sounds of many well-lubricated people trickling out the doorways of a host of dingy hole-in-the-wall pubs that flecked the poorer quarters of the city.

Following behind another group, he entered virtually unnoticed, till he nodded at the bartender for bottle of ale, leaving a modest tip for the fellow and melting back into the crowd. Drink in hand, Marko headed for the tables in the back, where groups of men traded cards and stacks of cash.

He snagged an empty seat, easy grin flashing at the other players. They frowned or smirked in turn, one with lank, greasy hair and scraggly face already reshuffling the deck.

“One to play, draw hand, Jacks to open.”

Everybody threw in their coins, watching the dealer dole out cards. Marko checked his cards, sighing and fiddling with his cap.

“Too rich for ya, kid?”

The burly man next to the dealer chuckled, taking a slug of his whisky, his cards held close to the table. Marko just shrugged, sipping his beer.

The man on Marko’s other side snorted thickly, tossing a few more coins into the pot and laying two cards down. “Draw two.”

The dealer looked at Marko, teasing glint in his eye, eyebrow raised. “Well?”

Marko laid all his cards down. “Draw five.”

The other men laughed, cigar smoke clouding the close space. The cards were dealt, Marko’s brows knitting as he surveyed his new hand. Tossing a couple of coins in he nodded to the player on his right.

Grunting, the older man tossed his stake in, drawing three. The night aged, cards being tossed, pulled, tossed again, till the pot stood a decent heap in the center of the table.

Marko held his hand close, tongue darting out as he chewed on his lower lip. He glanced at the dealer, the older man taking a heavy draw on the remains of his cigar, flashing a grin marred by heavy stains and gaps.

“Well, boy, let’s have it then.”

With a sigh, Marko tossed his cards down, the sudden sound of breaths being drawn circling the table, followed by cards thrown in disgust. He’d pulled a straight flush, winning the pot handily against a few pairs and one three of a kind.

There were grumbles and curses as he scooped up his winnings, and he ducked his head with a modest smile, motioning for the bartender to bring a bottle for the table.

Marko stood to leave, burly man stopping him with a meaty grip on his slender wrist.

“What’s the rush? Give us a chance to win our money back, young jack.”

“I have a prior engagement. Perhaps another night. Enjoy your drink, gentlemen.”

Twisting his hand out of the other’s grip, the blonde slipped quietly through the crowd, knocking back a last strong shot before making his way towards the door. Back out into the cool of the night, he nearly stumbled in another young man about to turn in.

“Whoa! My apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

A soft smirk met his attempt at a smile, eyes of the palest blue crinkling slightly at the corners as they took him in.

“No harm, I hope?”

The smirk blossomed into a grin. “No harm at all. Shame you seem to be leaving, I’d buy you a drink.”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. But if you frequent this place, we might meet again.”

“I look forward to it…? The stranger extended a gloved hand.

“Marko.” He was surprised at the strength of the other man’s grip, wincing as his bones creaked.

“David.”

That strong hand released his, and he relaxed again. “Well met, Marko. See you around.”

With that, the other man brushed past, the hum of pub chatter growing loud as the door opened, only to be choked off as it closed once again. Marko smiled to himself as he walked down the street.

Halfway home, he noticed the drunken conversation behind had been going on for a while, despite all the twists and turns he’d made. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the group from his poker match, keeping easy pace as they chatted animatedly, the burly man giving him a greasy, gap toothed smile.

“Oy, pretty boy! How’s about you give us back our money, afore we do sommat not so nice to that lovely face?”

Dark laughter followed, and Marko knew he was in trouble. He ducked down the next alley, slipping through an open yard as he heard the pounding of heavy feet running after him.

He jumped, gripping the top of a wooden fence, feet scrabbling on the boards as he pulled himself up. A hand grabbed his foot, wrenching him down with a hoarse shout, to land on his back on the grimy cobbles.

A thick boot made contact with his cheek, pain blossoming across his face, the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Not so pretty now, eh?”

Another kick, and he felt ribs break, fire lancing through his chest. Hands were on him, patting his coat and pants pockets, pulling out everything they found.

“Oy! E’s well heeled for a bit of scrub. Lookit this watch, ‘at’ll fetch a pretty penny.”

“We split the findin’s! We agreed!”

“Keep your trousers on, we ‘aven’t even finished ‘ere yet.”

Another low chuckle. “That won’t take long.”

Something cold and sharp trailed across his good cheek, wetness following it, the bite of exposed nerves flaring bright. Marko cried out, gasping as the blade continued its path, slicing the skin of his neck.

More wetness, the feel of cool night air against fresh wounds, and the blade lifting, only to sink down into his belly, bite deep and slice wide.

“That’s done it then. Let’s go, I’m feeling a mite thirsty, yeah?”

“Best idea you’ve ‘ad all day. Well, second best.”

The sound of footsteps and laughter trailed off as Marko lay in the darkened back alley. The cobbles leeched the warmth from his limbs, tremors rippling through him, drawing weak gasps as wounds seeped in time with his heart.

He felt a cool breeze blow gently across his face, making him shiver and moan as painful nerves flared and throbbed. New footsteps rang on the cobbles, a figure walking casually around him, the shadows too thick to make out who the new intruder could be.

“G…got nothing left…” Marko wheezed, hoping the stranger would at least leave him die in peace.

The figure knelt down, a match flaring to life nearly blinding him as a cool hand touched his cheek. Recognition dawned; it was the young man he’d bumped into outside the pub.

Marko could feel fingers tracing lightly across his cheek, dip into the wound on his neck. In the flickering light of the match, his blood looked almost black as it dripped down the other man’s hand.

Marko watched as the man grinned, licking his fingers clean with relish. When he turned back towards him, his face seemed to melt, reforming into something seen only in nightmares, a twisted demon with hellfire eyes and a wolf’s sharp toothed smile.

“Don’t be so sure about that…” The demon laughed, bending towards Marko. He cried out weakly as the blackness of hell swallowed him whole.


	2. Awake, and...alive?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marko awakens...was it all a bad dream?

Belonging 2 – awake…and alive?

………………………………

Warnings: none

……………………………

Marko gasped, sucking in a huge breath, sitting bolt upright. It was dark, and he couldn’t tell where he was, though it was cold, the floor he lay on seemed hard dirt. Then the smell hit him. His smell.

“Ah, merciful heavens!”

He picked at his soiled clothes, more concerned with the smell and feel of dried slime caking his skin than where he was. The hiss of a match struck to light a candle startled him, recent memories flaring in response.

“That’s not where your help is coming from.”

With an undignified screech Marko scooted backwards, running up against a stone wall. Before him, the pale blonde demon of his nightmares stood with a smirk, looking as human as he had outside the pub.

“Glad to see you’re awake. Was starting to wonder if you would.”

“You…I…where…?”

Marko looked down, patting tentatively at his stomach, then peeling apart his tattered shirt, hands shaking. The skin was smooth and whole, as unblemished as when he’d left his house. His hand shot to his face, slid down his neck, finding nothing but soft, unmarred skin.

“What…what happened? I died? Am I dead? You…you were…I was…”

“Slow down, Marko. Breathe a little.” The man stepped closer, holding out his hand, and Marko curled up, eyes wide.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! GET AWAY!”

“Relax, Marko. I’m not going to hurt you. Just offering a hand to stand up. Tell the truth, I don’t particularly want to touch you. You reek.”

Panting hard as he curled against the wall, it was hard for Marko to argue the point. His every breath only served as offensive reminder of the reality of the blonde’s words.

“There’s a bath waiting. One way or another, you’re getting in it.”

Marko looked up at the other man, who stood watching him calmly, smirk twisting full lips beneath twinkling blue eyes. The pale hand extended once more, palm up.

Still trembling, Marko swallowed dryly, hesitantly reaching out to take the offered assistance, his eyes locked on the blonde’s. The smirk blossomed into a full smile as he was pulled smoothly to his feet.

“There now, not so bad, hmm? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The taller man clapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the way Marko jumped as he turned to lead the way out of the small room. Stumbling, Marko pushed forward on oddly light feet.

The room opened into a larger area, a cellar with thick stone walls and a pile of coal by a monstrous boiler that burned merrily, warming the dark space and casting flickering shadows around. In the center of the space, steam rose off a filled copper tub, a small table next to it stacked with a towel, brush and soap.

“Go on, we have plenty to do tonight.”

Marko hesitated. “What happened to me? I remember…I was dying.” His hand brushed against the smooth skin of his stomach.

The blonde turned to smirk at his confusion.

“And then, you weren’t. I’m going upstairs, there’s clothes next to the boiler, though you might find them a little large. Come up when you’re done.”

The other man’s tone sent a shiver through him as Marko turned towards the tub. The blonde called out as he hit the steps.

“Might want to scrub off the worst of it before you get in the tub. That smell isn’t going away if you stew in it.”

With a grimace, Marko nodded. “Yes. Thank you, ah…?”

“David.”

“Thank you, David. You…you’ll wait… upstairs? You won’t…”

David glanced at him, smirk back on his face. “Shy type, hmm? Wouldn’t have pegged you for it. I’ll wait…if you don’t take too long. Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Marko shrunk at David’s rough tone, steadying himself with a hand on the warm edge of the tub. He watched the door close behind the other man, waiting a moment to be sure before skimming out of torn and soiled clothes with haste.

He’d never washed faster in his entire life. The rags of the old clothes went to scrape the crusted slime off his skin, as he wished all the while for some way to plug his nose. There was a bucket beside the tub, and he rinsed several times before getting in, and then only long enough to soap and rinse again before climbing out, glancing once more at the door as he wrapped the towel firmly around himself.

Picking up the clothes, he dressed quickly, grateful for the warmth the proximity to the boiler had given them. Affixing the suspenders, he pulled a bit at the tucked shirt, making it blouse loosely around his chest before putting on the dark wool coat, working the finely carved bone buttons closed.

Straightening his new outfit, he saw the last item, visibly deflating and putting a hand to his neglected hair. The cap he’d been wearing lay waiting, the solid coil he’d rolled his curls into come astray, wild strands hanging down behind his ears and swinging across the back of the dark coat.

With a pained sigh and practiced ease, he pulled pins free, bending from the waist as long curls shook free. He combed them neat with delicate fingers, swiftly rolling and curling the pile around and back into a tightly clipped bun, topped off with the cap. Glancing towards the door, his stomach swirled with dread, wondering what his erstwhile benefactor had planned for him.


End file.
